


a thousand years loving you

by 5ftjewishcactus



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Canon Compliant, Chubby Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Fluff, Happy Ending, Kissing, Light Angst, Love, Married Couple, No Sex, No Smut, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Other, References to Canon, Soft Crowley (Good Omens), The Arrangement (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:41:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22426471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/5ftjewishcactus/pseuds/5ftjewishcactus
Summary: In 1020, Aziraphale and Crowley came up with the Arrangement. On the surface, the Arrangement detailed how they’d stay out of each other’s way and lend a hand when needed. Both tasks would still be completed, still reported to their respective head offices. But neither would truly face the other, could keep reporting to head office how they were keeping the opposition from interfering. But further in, the Arrangement was in its essence, a marriage contract. Not necessarily in the way that humans might use the word marriage. But for Crowley and Aziraphale, it meant that whatever came next, however long they had left, it would be with each other.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 70
Collections: Aspec-friendly Good Omens





	a thousand years loving you

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a fic where the Arrangement was a marriage and Aziraphale's words at the band stand could've been construed as him asking Crowley for a divorce. Instead I wrote 5000 words of marriage backstory.

1020.

It was the summer of 1020 that Aziraphale and Crowley truly put together the Arrangement. That was the name they gave it, at the time. 

“Are you sure, angel?” Crowley asked. 

Aziraphale stared down at the document he’d been writing up. It was dangerous to have it in writing but Aziraphale needed it in writing. He needed it for him and he needed it for Crowley. 

“Yes.” He set his pen down and moved to sit closer to Crowley, gently cradling the demon’s cheek. “I want this, Crowley. I want you.”

Crowley smiled and leaned in to kiss him. 

Nearly five hundred years before Crowley had suggested the idea of them both staying home, no point being in the same place at the same time, canceling each other out. And at the time, Aziraphale had turned him down. A lot had changed in five hundred years. It had started slowly. After their brief meeting in the Kingdom of Wessex, they kept meeting. Sometimes because of their work, again taking them to the same places. Still canceling each other out. Other times though, it was by chance. Both spending time in areas because it was an interesting time or interesting place, full of interesting people. And on very rare occasions, because they may be hoped to bump into the other (though neither would admit it in those early days.) Eventually, though, those chance meetings had turned into clandestine meetings and secret rendezvous. Stolen moments full of friendship and want and love.

Eventually, Aziraphale realized they needed something. An agreement, a contract, to protect them both. Crowley hadn’t been wrong. A lot of the tasks they did effectively canceled each other out, but that didn’t mean they could just stop working. Heaven and Hell mostly left them alone but if they stopped doing their jobs, stopped reporting to head office, that would change. They needed a way to ensure that their work continued to get done but allowed them to work together. There would be jobs that Aziraphale wouldn’t want Crowley to be involved in, just as there were jobs that Crowley would want to protect Aziraphale from. They both understood that. But then there were the jobs, a quick temptation here, a minor blessing there. Things either of them could do. 

On the surface, the Arrangement detailed how they’d stay out of each other’s way and lend a hand when needed. Both tasks would still be completed, still reported to their respective head offices. But neither would truly face the other, could keep reporting to head office how they were keeping the opposition from interfering. But further in, the Arrangement was in its essence, a marriage contract. Not necessarily in the way that humans might use the word marriage. But for Crowley and Aziraphale, it meant that whatever came next, however long they had left, it would be with each other. 

Aziraphale turned back to the contract to finish writing the last details of the Arrangement and handed it to Crowley. 

“Anything else, my dear?” he asked.

Crowley glanced over it, already knowing what Aziraphale had written. “It’s wonderful. So, now we just sign it?”

“Well, I was thinking maybe a little more.”

Aziraphale set the page aside and stood, hands held out to Crowley. The demon took his hands and stood with him. 

“Crowley, I never would’ve thought all the years ago as we stood together on the wall of Eden, that one we’d be standing here. You’ve become my best friend and the being I care for so much. No matter what the ineffable plan contains, I want to face all of it, with you by my side.”

Crowley smiled, a slight blush on his cheeks. His golden eyes were fond as he nodded. 

“Angel. Aziraphale. You had my heart the moment you told me you’d given away your flaming sword to the humans. How could I not fall in love with an angel who would choose to protect the humans over himself? Even more, you protected me from the first rainstorm, even though I was a demon you’d only just met. I promise to always protect you for the rest of my days.”

Vows exchanged, the two shared a kiss. Then they signed the contract, making the Arrangement official. Aziraphale placed the contract in a folder, to be kept in a safe place that neither Heaven or Hell could find. 

“So, how shall we consummate our union?” Crowley asked, sitting back down. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale scolded. 

“I didn’t mean like that.” Crowley rolled his eyes. “Maybe a bottle of wine.”

“I suppose we should celebrate. I may have a bottle or two I’ve been saving for a special occasion.”

“Nothing more special than a union.”

Aziraphale smiled and headed over to the small kitchen. He pulled out a bottle from one of the cupboards and brought it over to the table. 

“It isn’t much… a bottle I saved from Rome.”

Crowley studied the bottle. “Why Rome?”

Aziraphale looked down, wringing his hands together. “It was our first… time dining together. You kept looking at me and I don’t know… I wanted to capture that feeling.” He shrugged. “The only thing I could save at the time was the wine.”

“Oh, angel.” Crowley leaned in and kissed him again. “I love you.”

“I love you, Crowley.”

They spent the night drinking wine and talking. Later, Aziraphale curled up in bed with Crowley and watched over the demon while he slept. They didn’t need to consummate their union the way humans might. They didn’t engage in sexual intercourse, had no desire for it. They found comfort in each other in other ways. While Aziraphale wasn’t fond of sleep, he did enjoy curling up with Crowley and watching over him while he slept. 

For the most part, they continued as they had before. Each doing what was expected of them, only occasionally meeting up together and sharing tasks as needed. They still kept their secret meetings to rare occasions, not wanting to risk being caught. Their careful nights spent together were cherished. For a few hours, they weren’t an angel and a demon. They were just simply two beings in love. 

*

1601\. 

By 1601, Aziraphale had grown fond of London. The people, the city, the shows. Shakespeare was easily one of his favorite playwrights and he’d even convinced Crowley to join him for several shows. He’d been hopeful when he’d asked Crowley to meet him at Shakespeare’s newest show that they’d be able to spend a few hours together amongst the crowds. But well… it hadn’t worked out that way and Aziraphale had barely gotten to enjoy Crowley’s company before he’d left him with not one but two tasks to take care of while in Edinburgh. 

He returned to his temporary housing and was in the process of making himself comfortable for the night when he discovered the note Crowley had slipped him, asking to meet later that night. Aziraphale was barely able to contain his excitement while he tried to read until the time Crowley specified. He found the small house on the outskirts of town and had barely knocked on the door when Crowley pulled him inside and pushed him up against the door, kissing him senseless. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale moaned, fingers curling into the demon’s long hair as Crowley’s warm lips pressed against his own. 

“I’ve missed you,” Crowley replied, in between kisses as he yanked the ruffle from around the angel’s neck. 

Aziraphale nodded in agreement, as Crowley trailed kisses down his neck, his goatee tickling Aziraphale’s skin as he moved down. Aziraphale began working on the buttons of Crowley’s top. They still didn’t engage in intercourse but Aziraphale wanted to touch Crowley and feel his cool skin beneath his warm hands. A few hundred years earlier, they’d discovered sensual comfort. Aziraphale had been nervous to let Crowley see him completely naked, due to his golden stretch marks. His heavenly marks. Meanwhile, Crowley’s eyes weren’t the only serpentine thing about his appearance. Patches of scales covered his back, legs, and upper arms. Each loved the other’s marks, touching them and kissing them. 

Eventually, they moved away from the door and to the bedroom, where both stripped out of their clothes and curled into the bed. Crowley continued to kiss him, wherever his lips could reach while Aziraphale’s fingers carded through his hair. 

“Stay with me,” Crowley whispered, “until you have to leave.”

“You could come with me,” Aziraphale replied. “We could go to Edinburgh together.”

Crowley shook his head, chin resting against Aziraphale’s plump stomach. “It’s cold in Scotland. And the horse thing…”

“Oh, so you dislike horses more than you love me?” Aziraphale teased.

“Sorry, angel.” The demon pressed a kiss against Aziraphale’s stomach. 

Aziraphale gentle cradle’s Crowley’s cheek. “It’s alright, love. I’ll stay with you until the end of the week. We’ve earned it.”

Crowley surged up and kissed Aziraphale until neither of them could breathe (not that they needed to.) They stayed together in the house Crowley had secured for them. No one, not human or angel or demon, disturbed them. Crowley cooked for them, ensuring his angel was well fed and taken care of before he had to go to Scotland. 

*

1793.

In 1793, after their crepe lunch, Crowley took them outside of Paris to a small home he’d secured. They should have been returning to London, but Crowley wanted to take advantage of the trip to spend some time together that they wouldn’t normally have once back home. 

“You know, there are other ways to get my attention,” he said, holding Aziraphale close as they sat curled up on the couch.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Aziraphale replied, tucking his head behind Crowley’s chin. 

Crowley’s fingers toyed with Aziraphale’s curls. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Yes, I am.”

Crowley kissed him again. Aziraphale was quick to run his fingers through Crowley’s hair, shaking it loose from the ridiculous style Crowley had put it in and made sure all the glorious curls framed the demon’s face. 

“That hairstyle took me hours,” Crowley said. 

“Oh, poor demon.” Aziraphale leaned forward and kissed Crowley’s forehead. “That outfit cost me a pretty penny.”

“I’ll buy you a new one when we get back to London.”

Aziraphale kissed his cheek, right next to his snake tattoo. 

“So, bookshop?” Crowley asked. He rubbed Aziraphale’s tummy, having snuck his hand under the shirt the angel was wearing, skin warm and soft under Crowley’s hand. 

Aziraphale smiled and pressed closer to Crowley. “Yes. I think I found the perfect building I want to acquire.”

“In London?” Crowley looked at Aziraphale who nodded. “I suppose London will do then.”

Aziraphale looked at him, blue eyes hopeful. “Do you mean?”

“Yes, angel. If you’re going to make London your home, then so will I. I can’t leave you, now can I?”

“Oh Crowley.”

*

1800\. 

“You have to be more careful, Crowley!” Aziraphale pleaded.

“I know! Don’t think I don’t know how easily everything we’ve worked for could’ve been ruined today.”

“If Gabriel hard turned around…”

“I know, angel! I do. I was careless. I won’t let it happen again.”

Crowley stepped forward, arms outstretched towards Aziraphale but the angel stepped back. 

“Crowley…” Aziraphale said.

Crowley shook his head. “Angel, please. He didn’t see me. And he’s letting you stay. Please… I can’t lose you.”

Aziraphale shook his head and turned away from Crowley. “We’ve been too foolish. Too comfortable. Maybe… maybe you should leave London. For a while.”

“You can’t mean that.” Crowley stepped forward again. 

“Please.” 

With a nod, Crowley turned and walked out of the bookshop door. Aziraphale was right. They’d become too comfortable. Too familiar. Both of them residing in London was a mistake. Crowley began walking back to his own home, a place he hadn’t yet shown Aziraphale. 

As he walked he realized he was still holding the chocolates and flowers he’d meant to gift Aziraphale. The chocolates had meant to be a gift to celebrate the bookshop opening and the flowers as an apology as well as a “thank someone you aren’t leaving me.” Crowley stared down at the gifts in his hands and his eyes teared up. He turned and started back towards the bookshop. If Aziraphale didn’t answer, he’d at least leave them for the angel. This wasn’t an end. It was a break, maybe, a rough patch. Marriages had rough patches sometimes. And it had been almost eight hundred years. 

When he reached the bookshop, the doors opened before he could knock and he half expected Aziraphale to yell at him again. But instead, the angel grabbed him and pulled him inside. The doors closed behind them with a miracle as Aziraphale began kissing him. 

“I’m so sorry,” Crowley said, putting his arms around Aziraphale’s middle.

“No, I’m sorry. You’re the reason I get to stay and I tried to throw you out. I don’t deserve you,” Aziraphale replied, blue eyes red-rimmed. “Please forgive me.”

“Always, angel.” Crowley moved to cup Aziraphale’s cheek and brush away the tears, but the chocolates were still in his hand. “Here, chocolates and flowers. For you.” 

Aziraphale took his gifts and smiled, as Crowley wiped his tears away. 

“You’re so good to me.”

Crowley held him and kissed his forehead. “I love you, angel.”

“I love you, too.”

They spent the night curled up together in the backroom, Aziraphale enjoying his chocolates and telling Crowley about his plans to acquire several books, first editions. He already had several, many that he’d been saving over their many years on Earth. 

Crowley did take some time away. For a couple of years. And then several more years he spent sleeping. He liked to sleep. It was one of his favorite pleasures of the world. And when he woke up again, he returned to Aziraphale and for a few years, they were happy. It was the calm before the storm.

*

1862.

Their first real fight, the worst one, occurred in 1862. The fight over the Holy Water. Aziraphale returned to his bookshop and after tucking himself into the backroom, broke down and cried. He loved Crowley and he couldn’t lose him. Requesting Holy Water, the only thing that could truly take Crowley from him forever, was something he could not face. And while his reaction to Crowley had been too strong, he needed the demon to understand that Aziraphale couldn’t, wouldn’t help leave him. 

As the days, weeks, months passed and Aziraphale continued to live without Crowley, his mind drifted to the Arrangement. The original copy of the Arrangement sat in a hidden drawer in his desk. He pulled it out and stared at it. He couldn’t… wouldn’t… accept that what had happened meant the end of what they had. He tucked the aged paper away, back in its hidden drawer and tried not to think about it over the next eighty years. 

In his darkest moments, when his heartbreak and loneliness got the better of him, Aziraphale contemplated burning it. He refused to think of it as a divorce, not explicitly but it might as well have been, for all the pain it caused him. But he never could bring himself to do it. He still loved Crowley and part of him hoped that the demon still loved him too.

*

1941.

And he did. So much so that in 1941, Crowley hopped his way into a church to save Aziraphale from Nazis. Aziraphale stood amongst the rubble, holding the bag of books and watching Crowley walk away after offering him a ride home, wondering if it was truly that easy. 

After a stunned moment, Aziraphale followed after Crowley to the car parked nearby 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said. 

Crowley turned to face him and Aziraphale, still overwhelmed by everything, acted on impulse, pulling Crowley into a kiss. Crowley’s arms held him firmly as the demon kissed him in return. 

“Angel,” Crowley whispered against his lips.

“Let’s go home, Crowley. Please.”

Crowley nodded and opened the passenger door of the car. Aziraphale set the bag of books carefully in the backseat and climbed inside. Crowley moved around and slide into the driver’s side. He looked at Aziraphale and smiled. 

“I never left,” Crowley said, reaching out a hand to Aziraphale who gladly took it. “Never once left London. Even thinking you hated me and would never want to see me again, I could never leave you, angel.”

“Oh Crowley. I don’t hate you. I never did. I was upset and scared.” Aziraphale brought Crowley’s hand up and kissed it. “I can’t lose you. Not ever. Not again.”

“Never ever. Cross my heart." Crowley made the motion of an X over his chest. "I promise, angel.”

Aziraphale leaned in and kissed him again. 

“Right. Home,” Crowley grinned and drove them to the bookshop. 

*

1954.

After the end of World War II, both Heaven and Hell seemed to fall into a lull. Victories were celebrated on both sides. Aziraphale and Crowley were left alone. The fallout following the war meant that humans didn’t require divine or sinister intervention like they had before and during the war. So Crowley and Aziraphale decided to take a holiday. Aziraphale closed up the bookshop and made sure it was protected so no one, human or otherwise, could harm it. And they traveled away. Found themselves a cottage out in the country where the two of them could be together. Crowley had taken her more feminine shape and they decided to act as the married couple they were. They would take walks together hand in hand along the beach. Sit together and have drinks outside on the porch or in the yard, watching the sunset. Aziraphale could lean in and kiss Crowley whenever he liked and no one would care. 

“I love you, dearest,” Aziraphale said, leaning forward to kiss Crowley’s hand. 

She had been sitting outside on the patio, bird watching she claimed while Aziraphale had been inside reading. Crowley blushed and smiled.

“I love you, angel.”

Aziraphale smiled and leaned in to kiss her properly. 

“Shall we go out to dinner, darling?” he asked. 

“I’d love to.”

It was a lovely summer. But eventually, the summer ended and they had to return to London. 

“Why can’t we stay here?” Crowley asked, sitting on the end of the bed. 

Aziraphale continued to pack his suitcase, even as Crowley stared him down. “We have to go back to London. Heaven and Hell will send for us. Come looking for us. We have jobs.”

Crowley folded her hands in her lap. “What if we didn’t?”

“Crowley.”

“No. What if we just stopped? No more working for Heaven or Hell. Just you and me. On our own side. We could stay here and live like this. Husband and wife. The Fells.”

Aziraphale shook his head. “We can’t, Crowley. They’ll come for us. They’ll…” He paused, unable to say out loud exactly what would happen to them. “We can’t.”

*

1967\. 

Their next rough patch occurred in the 1960s. Crowley again got it in his head that he needed Holy Water and no amount of reassurances to Aziraphale that it was for insurance, for protection, that Crowley would go down screaming and kicking to his dying breath, would convince the angel to help him. So Crowley decided to help himself. He’d already seen a means to do so, back in the church in 1941. He’d just need outside help. Humans. It would be fine. 

It was not fine. The plan was fine. All of it. He had a team. Not a thing was going to go wrong. And then Aziraphale turned up with the Holy Water and claimed that Crowley went too fast for him. It would’ve been easier to pretend it was a joke about his driving, but he knew what Aziraphale meant. They’d been married for nine hundred years but Aziraphale wasn’t ready for what Crowley truly wanted for them. He’d said as much before they’d returned home to London following World War II. Crowley knew that Aziraphale was right, that they wouldn’t be able to hide from Heaven or Hell and no little beach cottage would keep them safe. Which was why Crowley wanted the Holy Water. And Aziraphale wanted distance. He’d given Crowley want he wanted, so the demon would give the angel what he wanted as well. 

He gave Aziraphale space for the next forty years. Probably would’ve given him another ten years of space. But then the Antichrist was born. 

*

2013\. 

Crowley lay sprawled across the small couch in the gardener’s cottage, her jacket discarded on the arm of the chair and her shoes kicked off by the door. Aziraphale had promised to be in shortly, once he was done dealing with some manner or another. Crowley hadn’t been paying attention. She was tired and her feet hurt and she was grateful for a night off. The Dowlings, with young Warlock, had left a half-hour earlier to attend some government function or another. All Crowley wanted now was to curl up with her angel and take a well-needed nap. 

She’d started to doze off when Aziraphale finally returned. 

“There you are,” she said, sitting up as Aziraphale moved around to join her. 

“Sorry. Despite all of your knowledge, I’m afraid the gardenias on the east side aren’t doing so well,” Aziraphale replied, still wearing his disguise. 

“I’ll check on them later. After a nap,” Crowley replied, reaching up to run her fingers through Aziraphale’s sideburns. 

Aziraphale leaned in to kiss her and she leaned back, holding up a finger to his nose. 

“No. I am not kissing you while you look like that, angel.”

“I kissed you when you had that ridiculous goatee.”

“Not the same.” 

Aziraphale chuckled and changed back into himself. Crowley’s fingers brushed along his clean-shaven face.

“Much better.” Then she kissed him. “Cuddle me?”

“Of course, dear.”

Aziraphale sat down and let Crowley curl up next to him, arms wrapped around her waist as she tucked herself against his side. Her head rested on his shoulder, as Aziraphale’s fingers carded through her hair, loosening the tight curls. 

“Whatever happens over the next six years, I’m glad to be facing it with you, my love,” Aziraphale whispered, kissing the top of Crowley’s head.

“I love you, angel.” 

She pressed a kiss against his neck. While Aziraphale had protested against helping Crowley to stop the apocalypse outright, if it was the last eleven years they had left, Aziraphale didn’t want to spend it away from Crowley. It wasn’t quite the same as their summer holiday in 1954, but it was close enough. The Dowlings didn’t know they were married, no one did, but they spent days and nights off and any spare moment together. 

Crowley drifted off to sleep curled in the warmth of her husband, her angel, and all the love he had for her. 

A knock at the door and distressed cries woke her. 

“Nanny! Brother Francis! Please! Nanny!” Warlock cried, tiny fists pounding on the door. 

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale hopped up and quickly changed back into his disguise before going to open the door. 

“Brother Francis!” Warlock buried his face against Brother Francis’ plump middle, tiny arms clinging to the familiar comfort of his gardener.

“Warlock, what’s wrong?” Brother Francis asked, one hand resting on Warlock’s shoulder and the other patting his head. 

“The dinner was boring and full of adults and daddy snapped at me, told me to stop fidgeting. I wish I’d stayed home with you and Nanny. Where is Nanny?” Warlock cried.

“Right here,” Nanny Ashtoreth replied, having come over to see what was wrong. 

“Nanny!” Warlock raced into her arms and clung to her. 

She hefted the young boy up onto her hip and held him close. 

“It’s alright, dear. Nanny’s here.” 

She soothingly rubbed his back as he cried against her shoulder. She looked to Brother Francis who smiled and nodded. Nanny Ashtoreth carried Warlock to the couch and sat with him on her lap. 

“What did you eat for dinner?” Nanny asked. 

“I picked at the vegetables because mommy told me to but the meat was gross. It was slimy fish thing.”

“Well, I’m glad you ate your vegetables. But I bet Brother Francis has something more delicious than slimy fish.”

Brother Francis nodded and headed to the kitchen. Nanny continued to comfort young Warlock while Brother Francis put together some of Warlock’s favorite foods. A bowl of spaghetti, a plate of brownies, and a cup of hot chocolate. He placed them all on a tray and carried them into the living room. 

“There you are, Young Master Warlock,” he said.

“Thank you, Brother Francis.” 

Warlock climbed off of Nanny’s lap and sat down on the couch next to her and began eating his spaghetti. Nanny ruffled his hair and smiled. 

“Where are your parents now?” she asked. 

“In the house fighting. Dad’s supposed to go back to the US tonight.”

Nanny frowned but didn’t let Warlock see it. She ran her fingers through his hair again, brushing it away from his face while he ate. 

“Can I stay here tonight?” Warlock asked. 

Nanny looked to Brother Francis who shrugged. 

“We’ll see, okay. Eat your dinner,” Nanny replied.

Warlock nodded and kept eating his dinner. Once he was done with his spaghetti, he began eating his brownies and asked Brother Francis to read to him. Brother Francis moved over to the couch and let Warlock curl up next to him, while he read. 

Nanny pulled on her coat and shoes to head inside the house, wanting to check on the Dowlings before deciding if Warlock would stay the night in the cottage. She found Mrs. Dowling in the sitting room, a glass of wine in hand.

“Mrs. Dowling?” Nanny asked.

“Ms. Ashtoreth, is Warlock...?” Mrs. Dowling asked. 

“He’s fine. He’s with Brother Francis at the moment.”

Mrs. Dowling nodded and took a drink from her glass. Nanny walked over and sat down next to her. 

“Are you alright, Mrs. Dowling?” she asked.

“No. Sometimes I worry that Tad is right. That… you and Brother Francis are better parents to Warlock than I am.”

“You are a wonderful mother, Mrs. Dowling. Warlock loves you.”

“But Warlock ran to you two.”

“Because he knew he’d be safe with us while you two fought. He was just a scared little boy who ran to the adults he could trust. That’s good.”

Mrs. Dowling looked at Nanny, her eyes were red-rimmed. Nanny took the wine glass from her and set it on the table. 

“Mrs. Dowling, Harriet. You are a good woman, a good mother. I can see that and I’ve been the Nanny for many children over the years. Warlock knows it, too. Have some water and I’ll bring Warlock in. You can read him a bedtime story and tuck him into bed,” Nanny said.

Mrs. Dowling nodded. Nanny smiled at her. 

“Thank you, Ms. Ashtoreth.”

“Don’t thank me. It’s all a part of my job. I don’t just take care of children.”

Mrs. Dowling smiled. Nanny headed back outside to the gardener’s cottage. 

“Nanny! Where were you?” Warlock asked.

“Talking to your mother,” Nanny replied.

“Does that mean I can stay tonight?” 

Nanny shook her head. She knelt in front of him. “No. You need your mother tonight. And she needs you. Can you be a good boy for Nanny and let your mother tuck you into bed?” 

Warlock nodded. “Okay, Nanny.”

“That’s a good boy.”

Warlock stood and hugged Nanny. Then he hugged Brother Francis. Nanny walked him to the door to the house. She smiled encouragingly at Warlock as the boy headed inside. She watched from the window as Warlock raced into the living room and hugged his mother. Nanny returned to the cottage. Aziraphale was cleaning up from Warlock’s dinner. Crowley sighed and sank onto the couch. Aziraphale grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses. 

“You’re so good with him,” Aziraphale said, handing Crowley a glass. 

“That’s supposed to be your thing,” Crowley replied. “I really am terrible at being a demon.”

“But you’re a wonderful partner and a great nanny and the love of my life.” Aziraphale held her hand and kissed it. 

“Oh, angel.”

Crowley wrapped her arms around Aziraphale and kissed him. 

*

2019\. 

Aziraphale stood in the middle of Crowley’s flat, trying to take everything in. They had saved the world. Well, Adam had done most of the actual saving. But they’d been there to support him. After almost trying to kill him. And after everything, Aziraphale wasn’t sure what came next. At least he still had Crowley. Who was currently standing across the room, watching Aziraphale. He was tired, weariness evident on his face, in the way he held himself, his shoulders slouched. There was still soot and ash from when he’d kept the Bentley in one piece earlier that day. 

“Are you going to be okay?” Crowley asked. “For the night?”

“Oh. Yes. Yes, I’ll be alright,” Aziraphale replied, quickly, not wanting to worry the demon.

Crowley stared at him a moment before nodding and turning to walk to the bedroom. 

Aziraphale’s mind flashed to the bandstand earlier when Crowley had turned and walked away then, too. After Aziraphale had said it was over, that they were over. He hadn’t meant it, he’d been scared and Crowley’s plan to just run away terrified him. But the words he’d used. There isn’t an ‘our side’, Crowley. Not any more. It’s over. A sob caught in Aziraphale’s throat. 

“Angel?” Crowley had turned back to him, worry in his uncovered yellow eyes. 

“Oh Crowley,” Aziraphale said, stepping forward. “I need you to know… I didn’t mean it.”

“Angel, what are you talking about?” Crowley asked, coming to stand in front of Aziraphale, hands reaching out for the angel. 

“ When I said…” Aziraphale tried to choke back a sob.

“Angel,” Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale and held him to his chest. “It’s alright. We both said things we didn’t mean.”

“But I said… we were over. I didn’t mean it.” Aziraphale wrapped his arms around Crowley’s waist because he might as well have declared their marriage over, asked for a divorce with what he’d said. And he needed Crowley to know he didn’t want that. “And the contract! Oh! It burned down with the bookshop! Oh…”

“Contract?” Crowley asked, holding tightly to Aziraphale.

“The Arrangement.”

“Angel. Sweet angel.” Crowley kissed Aziraphale’s cheek. “My sweet angel. The contract burning doesn’t mean it’s over. And for somebody’s sake, we’re free now. On our own side. We can… get married. Like humans do.”

Aziraphale looked at Crowley. “Really?”

“Yes, angel. I married you almost a thousand years ago. I’ll marry you again every thousand years. Every hundred years. I would’ve married in Eden.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “Crowley.”

Crowley smiled. “What I mean is that I love you, angel. Always have, always will.”

“I love you, darling.”

Aziraphale kissed him. Crowley’s arms wrapped tight around Aziraphale. 

“Now, I really am tired. Please come to bed with me and we will figure out how to face Heaven and Hell in the morning,” he said.

“Yes, I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to keep you up.”

Crowley ran his hands through Aziraphale’s hair. “Shush. No more apologizing. Time for bed.”

He held the angel’s hands and steered Aziraphale towards the bedroom. 

“I know you don’t sleep…” Crowley said.

“You know, I think tonight I could actually sleep.”

“I bet you’ll love it.”

Crowley snapped his fingers and they both were changed into comfortable pyjamas. He pulled Aziraphale down onto the bed and tucked them under the sheets. 

“Good night, angel,” Crowley whispered, curled up against Aziraphale, head resting on his chest.

“Night, darling.”

*

2020\. 

Spring of 2020 found Aziraphale and Crowley standing in St. James Park, a small gathering of their close friends with them as they exchanged their new vows. Summer would be the official one-thousandth anniversary of their original vows, of the beginning of the Arrangement. But after much talking, they decided they wanted a new anniversary date to celebrate their new lives together. 

Warlock was standing as Crowley’s best man while Wensleydale stood as Aziraphale’s. The two bookworms had bonded over the last year. While Wensleydale’s parents still preferred his friendship with Adam, Pepper, and Brian, they did appreciate that Aziraphale let Wensleydale over on weekends to help around the shop and read all the books. 

Adam, Pepper, and Brian were standing with Anathema, Newt, Madam Tracey, and Shadwell. Crowley had tried to argue against Shadwell being invited, but Aziraphale pointed out that he was one of their oldest friends. Crowley begrudgingly agreed. After several bottles of wine. 

Just as they had done before, they stood together holding hands and spoke from the heart. 

“Crowley, we’ve been friends since Eden. You’ve been my best friend and the love of my life for six thousand years. A thousand years ago, we exchanged vows and you became my spouse. I want to spend the next thousand years, six thousand even as your husband. To continue to face whatever happens next, side by side. On our side.”

Crowley smiled, happy tears falling from his golden eyes. 

“Angel. Aziraphale. My best friend, my husband, my only. I love you. We’ve protected each other and I know we’ll continue to protect each other, and the world we’ve both grown to love so much. For a thousand years, six thousand years. You are my sun and moon and stars. I love you, angel.”

As if on cue, Dog came up to the couple, the pillow holding their rings held carefully in his mouth. Crowley knelt and retrieved them. He slid the silver ring onto Aziraphale’s finger and Aziraphale slid a matching gold band onto Crowley’s finger. Both bands contained ever intertwining infinity symbols. Aziraphale grinned and pulled Crowley in for a kiss. 

Anathema and Madam Tracey cheered while everyone else clapped. Adam moved forward to high five Warlock and pick up Dog. They had cake and champagne and other foods and drinks under a nearby canopy tent. While they celebrated, both Crowley and Aziraphale kept either exchanging kisses or holding hands or calling each other husband or all three at once. And the couple's first dance was absolutely ridiculous. Once the celebrating was over, they returned home to the little cottage they’d moved to in the South Downs. It was like their summary in 1954, but better because they could be themselves completely and didn’t have to worry about Heaven or Hell coming after them. They were free.

**Author's Note:**

> The 1954 scene was inspired by [this edit](https://octoberspirit.tumblr.com/post/190194141721/an-edit-i-did-for-isthatyouazi-on-twitter-3-this) by octoberspirit. 
> 
> You can follow me on tumblr [@5ftjewishcactus](https://5ftjewishcactus.tumblr.com/) or on twitter on my main [@5ftjewishcactus](https://twitter.com/5ftjewishcatus) or on my sfw gen fandom [@2ambiace](https://twitter.com/2ambiace) or my dbh [@asexualhankcon](https://twitter.com/asexualhankcon).


End file.
